


Four Down, One to Go

by sunshinewinchesters



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: And Ryan loves him back OF COURSE, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealous Shane, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Shane, Protective Shane, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane's a big ol' fuckin sap and you can fight me, Sick Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: Ryan is sick and Shane is having a really shitty week.





	Four Down, One to Go

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely and talented 51wheezes! You are amazing and your beautiful work and encouragement has inspired me to produce whatever this disaster is :') <3

Shane has been having a rough week.

He doesn’t believe in ‘the stars’ or any of that astrology bullshit, but man, does he wish there was a planet in retrograde or some shit that he could blame the disaster that is this week from hell on. Monday he had the rom-com classic bad luck of running straight into Ryan -- literally, he was booking it to a meeting for which he was already ten minutes late -- and spilled his extra-hot black coffee all over the both of them. Ryan had immediately burst into laughter, wheezing out a few affection-laden insults while smiling that giant, ridiculous smile of his that always without fail warms Shane to his very core. “You big fucking idiot,” Ryan was beaming up at him, and god dammit, Shane was beaming back, helpless not to laugh with his friend. Before Shane even had the chance to get an actual apology out, Ryan had handed him his own nearly-full Starbucks cup and looked up at him with a breathless “go, get to your meeting before they fire you and I have to go into the next demon hole alone,” before he’d erupted back into laughter. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t that bad, even though Shane had had to throw away that shirt when he got home later on -- the stain had definitely taken up permanent residence in the white cotton and no amount of stain stick was going to change that. 

Tuesday continued to follow suit when Shane ended up stranded in the parking lot after work when his engine wouldn’t start. He’d called Ryan, and God bless his soul, his ever-faithful friend had driven all the way back to provide his nice, functional car for a jumpstart. Shane had been relieved and thankful a quick fix was just around the corner, only upon popping the hoods, they both quickly realized that the other had absolutely no idea where to attach the clamps or what to do with the cables. It didn’t take long before they’d realized they needed to call AAA and get a jumpstart expert to come save the day.

As they’d waited and it actually started _raining_ , in L.A for fuck’s sake, Shane apologized for wasting Ryan’s time and making him come all the way out here. “I was just gonna start _How to Get Away with Murder_ tonight on Netflix, it’s not like it can’t wait for me to, y’know, drive out here to save your ass with a jumpstart neither of us even knows how to do,” Ryan joked. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation got to them both then and they’d both burst into laughter, the rain dripping down their faces and beginning to soak their clothes. Once he’d caught his breath, Ryan had looked up at Shane with big, playfully remorse eyes and added, “In hindsight. Maybe we should have looked up ‘how to jumpstart Shane’s piece of shit car’ on YouTube before we called the repair guys.” That sent them right back into hysterics, Ryan doubling over with the force of his laughter, and Shane had forgotten his shit luck, just for a moment.

Wednesday somehow got worse, because Shane had spent the whole day doing shitty odd jobs by himself at work while Ryan was at home, sick. Probably because he’d been out shivering in the rain for a good couple hours while Shane dealt with his car trouble. _That_ makes him feel even worse -- he should’ve grown a pair and offered Ryan his jacket like he’d wanted, goddammit. He’d gotten a text from his friend that morning giving him a heads-up that they wouldn’t be able to film today since he had a pretty bad cold and cough and had to stay home. Even though Shane had been looking forward to filming out in the haunted murder forest with Ryan all day, he was glad his friend was resting instead -- better for his immune system that way. However, with Ryan’s absence, the day had been slow, boring, and devoid of anything to look forward to or enjoy. He hadn’t ever realized how much he hated work until Ryan wasn’t there. 

Even worse than the grunt work his boss had given him to keep busy, Shane had been worrying all day about Ryan. Despite being a grown ass adult, Ryan took care of himself like a college kid, and he couldn’t even cook, so how was he supposed to survive the treacherous ailment of a cold? How was he going to fend for himself with a pantry full of raman and expired poptarts when he needed something with nutrition to get his health back up? He probably didn’t even own cough medicine. So yeah, Shane had entertained himself by worrying, because he obviously had nothing better to do while completing paperwork.

After he got off, Shane had stopped by the grocery store and then driven over to Ryan’s apartment. He’d knocked and waited, but Ryan must have been sleeping or something, because even after ten minutes he didn’t come to answer the door. So Shane had ended up leaving the plastic grocery bag of orange juice, chicken noodle soup from the deli, and cherry flavored cough drops -- Ryan’s (gross) favorite flavor -- outside his door, sending him a quick text to let him know it was there before he headed on his way back home, still worrying and feeling bizarrely emptier than he’d felt in a long time. 

 

Miraculously, Thursday somehow topped the past three days combined. 

Despite still being obviously considerably sick, Ryan had come in today because today their department had a mandatory meeting and Ryan was too nervous to miss it. Aside from the fact Ryan looked like he should definitely be in bed with a thermometer in his mouth and a cold compress on his head, having a meeting over lunch with the department higher-ups shouldn’t have been a problem -- Shane liked and/or tolerated all of his coworkers well enough. They’d all met at noon for Italian and Shane’s boss, after saying lunch was on him, opened up the discussion about new ideas for current BuzzFeedBlue projects. It had all been going pretty good (he’d gotten the fettuccine, his favorite), until the new marketing assistant project manager, a tall man with too much gel in his hair who’d transferred here from who the fuck cares where, started not-so-subtly hitting on Ryan. 

Shane considers himself a pretty easy going, laid-back, all-around friendly guy who gets along with everyone and rarely has problems with them about anything. That’s why, when the new guy started monopolizing Ryan’s attention, Shane was very surprised when he found himself scowling down at his plate and stabbing the shrimp onto his fork with much more aggression than was strictly necessary. Despite the engaging discussion and excitement of everyone else in the group bouncing ideas off one another, all Shane could do was focus on how close the guy had scooted over to Ryan, how he touched his shoulder when he told him some stupid joke and leaned in to whisper in his ear. The longer it went on, the further the man impeded on Ryan’s personal space and kept stealing his friend away from the group for his own conversation. Coincidentally, the longer it went on, the more tense and irritated Shane got.

More than a few times he tried to rope himself into whatever they were talking about, get Ryan’s attention and put an end to the one-sided flirting, but the new guy was determined to keep Ryan all to himself. He’d draw Ryan back in while casually excluding Shane, and as Ryan nodded and listened to him talk, uncomfortable with what was going on but totally oblivious to the man’s advances and true intent, Shane had felt something hot like fire burn in his chest and it had only gotten hotter and hotter the longer new guy persisted.

The feeling had been completely new to him, that bitter curl in his stomach that made him grind his molars and had heat sparking dangerously in his veins. Shane hadn’t ever gotten a ‘bad feeling’ from anyone before now and all he could think was that he needed to get that guy _away_ from Ryan. Something visceral inside him was reacting strongly to the way new guy kept his predatory gaze on his unaware best friend. Then, when he leaned closer and actually fucking placed his hand on Ryan’s thigh, that thing inside Shane _snapped_.

Shane had abruptly pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, his jaw clenched tight and he’d given the new guy a look so lethal that he had immediately withdrawn his hand. He’d then cleared his throat and walked over to stand next to the booth seat nearest Ryan’s side, keeping his voice nonchalant as he said the first excuse that’d come to his mind. “Hey, Ryan, Brent just called and said we gotta go sign some authorization notices or something for the filming location.” Despite the rigidity of his posture and the daggers in his eyes, Shane’s forced-casual tone had not grabbed any of their coworkers’ attention, as the conversation kept flowing for everyone but Ryan and his douchebag admirer.

In response, Ryan had pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, hurrying to join Shane so they would not be late for their unforeseen ‘meeting’. He didn’t need to worry -- Shane was not leaving without Ryan by his side and the _hell_ away from that touchy asshole. “What? Brent never warns me about any of this stuff, I swear to God!” Ryan had rolled his eyes and smiled apologetically at the few people who looked up to see where they were headed. “Sorry everyone, we gotta head out. Glad we got to meet up and get lunch and go over some of our new projects, see you all later!” With that, Shane had started heading for the door, Ryan having to speed up his pace in order to match Shane’s long-legged strides. 

“He didn’t even send out an email -- where does he expect us to meet him? And why doesn’t he ever communicate with--” Ryan begun, and Shane was briefly distracted from his anger by amusement at his friend’s totally not adorable confused grumbling. Right before they exited through the double glass doors, Shane had looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of the pissed-off, hostile glare new guy was shooting him. He smirked purposefully back, feeling that possessive heat coil low in his stomach, the fiercely jealous part of him now satisfied.

Wait. Shane wasn’t jealous. Nope. Not a chance. He was just... _concerned_ , for Ryan’s well being, that’s all. Ryan hadn’t looked comfortable and so Shane gave him an out, simple as that. “Brent doesn’t need us to go do anything.” Shane interjected, and Ryan’s little tirade stuttered to a stop and he squinted up at him, an obvious question in his eyes. “That guy was being really touchy and you looked uncomfortable, so I got you outta there,” Shane explained nonchalantly, and Ryan’s face instantly relaxed and he laughed, shoulders loosening back up.

“Yeah, you noticed that too? I _thought_ he was being a little weird and creepy, but not until he decided to put his hand on my leg, like what the hell!” Ryan spluttered, then laughed more, obviously relieved that Shane had gotten him out of the situation. Shane smiled back at him, feeling that familiar soft warmth spread through his chest as Ryan looked at him with such genuine fondness and gratefulness Shane swore it was giving him some sort of heady dopamine high. “Nice thinking, I was worried I was gonna have to fake a heart attack or something,” Ryan joked, and Shane’s heart grew three sizes more when Ryan had nudged him with his shoulder and said he’d wished he’d grabbed the extra breadsticks before they’d left. 

It was then that Shane subconsciously acknowledged a fundamental truth about himself that was so undeniable and natural he didn’t even notice what it revealed about his true feelings for his friend. He felt it and knew it deeply, and that made realizing it simple.

He would do anything for Ryan Bergara.

 

***  
Friday finally rolls around and Shane comes into work waiting to just get whatever disaster is inevitably coming out of the way and over with. No doubt it’s going to be really fucking bad -- it has to be, in order to be the cherry-on-top finale of this horrible week. Thankfully no one comments on his bad mood when he sits down at his desk and finds Ryan is, as expected, out sick again. At least when Shane’s computer spontaneously catches on fire or he falls down three flights of stairs and breaks his collarbone or whatever is supposed to happen today, Ryan won’t be there to laugh his ass off and tease him about it for the next five years. Shane glares down at his keyboard and puts his head in his hands. For some reason the thought just makes him sadder. 

***

Shane’s phone lights up with Ryan’s name on the screen just before Shane is supposed to go to lunch. Forgetting the task he was supposed to finish up, Shane unlocks his phone and thumbs open iMessage. It’s two words and suddenly Shane has a lump in his throat and his heart picks up the pace. _Come over_. Ryan’s never cryptic with his texts like that and he knows Shane’s at work, and that sets off alarm bells in the back of Shane’s head. Is he okay? What if something’s wrong? Shit. Shane doesn’t waste any time telling his manager he thinks Ryan’s given him whatever bug he had and that he’s going home sick for the day. He doesn’t even care he’s not even being convincing; all he can think about is getting over to Ryan’s.

Twenty or so minutes later and Shane’s jogging up the steps leading to the door of Ryan’s apartment, his hasty parallel parking job no doubt going to earn him a ticket. Just like he did two days ago, except without a bag of food hung on his arm, Shane knocks on the door, worry making him anxiously bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet. It feels like an eternity before Shane finally hears the sound of the deadbolt turning and then there’s Ryan pulling the door open and standing there squinting up at him bleary, tired eyes. Shane quickly looks him up and down before Ryan steps aside to let him in. He’s wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweater, both of which completely swamp him, barefoot and his hair fucked to hell like he’s been tossing and turning in bed all day. “Hey, you okay?” Shane asks softly as Ryan closes the door behind him. Maybe it’s the too-big clothes or just the fact that Ryan’s all shivery and sniffly, but he looks smaller than normal and it makes Shane ache.

“Thanks for coming over here. ‘M really fuckin’ sick,” Ryan says with a weak chuckle, blinking up at Shane with that signature Bergara toothy grin. Shane furrows his eyebrows as Ryan stumbles a step and then rights himself, his unsteadiness even more concerning. For Ryan’s benefit, he manages a light laugh.  
“Yeah, I can see that, buddy. Why don’t we get you into bed before you fall and eat shit?” Shane suggests gently, and Ryan laughs, the sound scraping up his throat in a way that makes Shane wince in sympathy. The two head down the hall and enter into Ryan’s bedroom, which is in a state of disarray compared to the last time Shane saw it, a few weeks ago or so when Ryan had him and a few others over for the game. The blinds are drawn shut and Ryan’s bed is a mess of blankets, sheets, and comforters, not neatly made like Ryan had had it last time. There’s scrunched up Kleenexes all over the floor by the side of his bed and on the nightstand, and the empty containers of the orange juice and chicken noodle soup perched precariously next to the bedside lamp. 

“Thank you for the soup and stuff, by the way. That was really nice of you,” Ryan gives him another smile as he rubs his already red nose, and the affection in his watery eyes makes Shane feel like he’s drowning. Shane returns the smile, reaching over to try and straighten out the pile of blankets, dislodging a few discarded tissues amongst them in the process.  
“No problem.” They’re quiet for a minute as Shane fixes the covers and Ryan wipes at his runny nose, snuffling into his sweater sleeve. “Here, get in,” Shane urges, stepping out of the way and gesturing at the peeled back sheets. As Ryan obeys, Shane catches his eye. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” He wants to add _your text scared me_ , but he doesn’t. Ryan scootrs all the way over in the queen sized bed, and doesn’t make any attempt to cover himself back up. Instead, he meets Shane’s eyes, and there’s something intimate and deep in his gaze that makes Shane’s breath stick in his throat, his heart beating a steady staccato against his ribs.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just…” Ryan closes his eyes for a second, as if searching for words. “I just...needed to see you.”  
“Well, here I am,” Shane jokes lightly, and Ryan just keeps looking at him in that way that makes Shane feel unbearably warm inside, in a way that Shane doesn’t deserve. Ryan takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and Shane doesn’t even remember when he started holding his breath. There’s something almost tangible in the air, like they’re right on the edge of _something_. Then, Ryan suddenly bursts into wheezing laughter.  
“Fuck, man,” he coughs, small frame shaking, “I-I am not good at this. Could you...get in with me?” Ryan ventures, speaking the last part so fast the words run together and it takes Shane a second to process them. He peeks up at Shane anxiously, and Shane’s brain is racing a mile a minute as he tries to understand, a considerably hard task when his mind is occupied with reveling in Ryan’s request. Shane sits down on the edge of the bed, swings his legs up, and lies back against the pillows. He can feel the heat and trembling coming from Ryan lying next to him, just inches away, and holy _shit_. 

Ryan sits up, running a hand over his face before he turns to face Shane, who rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, palm cupping his chin. Ryan’s all nervous energy and it’s too adorable for his own damn good. His cheeks have flushed an even deeper shade of red and it looks like it takes no small amount of courage to meet Shane’s gently questioning gaze. “Ryan?” Shane asks softly, searching the man’s face.  
“I -- goddammit, fuck, I -- I’m in _love_ with you, Shane. I’m in love with your idiot dumb ass and I was watching this shitty soap in bed this morning and there was so much pining and all these ridiculous misunderstandings and neither of them admitted their feelings and it was so infuriating, all this yearning bullshit, and I-I just realized… I’m not gonna dance around it anymore. It’s been killing me for forever, especially this week, and I’m just fucking in love with you, and this doesn’t have to change anything, I just wanted you to know, and --” Shane leans forward, closing the small space between them, and captures Ryan’s feverish lips in a kiss.

Ryan sucks in a sharp breath and then his eyelids flutter shut. He presses himself closer to Shane, who sits up completely and pulls Ryan against him and into his arms. Ryan makes a low, needy noise in the back of his throat, kissing Shane back like he’s been wanting it for months, just like Shane, and fuck, Shane is seeing stars. The kiss deepens as Ryan tilts his head to the side and Shane traces the curve of his bottom lip with his tongue, and Shane never wants to forget this moment. He wants to commit the soft warmth of Ryan’s plush lips to memory, the taste of Ryan with that background smack of cherry and menthol, the beautiful, responsive sounds Ryan makes that set a low-burning fire smoldering in Shane’s belly. All of it, he wants to remember all of it, all of Ryan. When they pull back, both breathing heavy and staring at each other with intensity Shane’s never felt before in his life, Shane grins at him so big his face hurts.

“Well, took you long enough. I love you too, and I’ve been wanting to do that for fuck knows how long.” Ryan laughs, touching his forehead to Shane’s and Shane draws him closer yet, laughing along with him.  
“You asshole! Are you serious! I’ve been tip-toeing around it all this time, and --” Shane stops him with another kiss, and they’re both giggling into it, and Shane knows without a doubt he’s never felt this fucking fulfilled or just plain out _good_ in his entire goddamn life. He kisses Ryan with everything he feels inside him, and Ryan returns it in full, everything they’ve always wanted to say finally expressed with each movement of their lips: _You’re an idiot, I’d do anything for you, you make every part of my life so much fucking better, you’re ridiculous, I love you._

 

Maybe this week wasn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
